I think the most important lessons of engineering are to be learnt outside the class room. Engg more than a humongously large number of subjects each semester has to be about surviving on your own. If you are lucky as I am, you will live in a hostel and there will be no place to run away from all the troubles of life. Conflicts will literally follow you to your room. You will grapple with roommates some of them pleasant and the rest outrightly hostile and at one time or the other even the best will go through a snapping and biting phase.
Everything you own will be at risk of being permanently borrowed and u will be
lucky if u dont loose some stuff or the other each week.
There ain't no mom or dad to run too. You have to stand your ground even if there is the threat of wider conflict.
There is nobody to turn to in case of an illness. You lie in your bed fully miserable with a line or two of consolation from a buddy.
You grapple with impossible deadlines. U meet some and others simply pass by like long over crushes.
This is no joke. This is life.
But this is the whole advantage of engg. The lessons one learns are the lessons of life. For future MBA Grads these are worth their weight in gold. Because there is no easy way to learn these lessons. Tuorials cant help anyone here.
Expeience often comes from previous poor judgement.
Engineering Zindabad
Monday, April 28, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Down a meandering road
Well this is my memoir finally done. Read it and give me feedback.
Many people at the end of college state that how much they will miss college, friends and wish that there still was time before they passed out. I would like to state that I am GLAD to pass out. While some regret the passing of an era; I celebrate the dawn of another epoch.
As an FE, SE and most desperately as a TE I wanted to write a memoir in the magazine. However I thought a memoir was too hallowed an act for anyone else than a BE to write. I often wondered how would a 4 year long story sound like? Now that I finally sit down to pen down this memoir, words seem to have deserted me.
AIT in my case is a story that nearly never was. With a rather high AIEEE merit I chose to take admission to NIT Warrangal. But blame fate or the Naxals who ambushed the same district the next day, my decision got vetoed by my parents. So I landed up at the gates of AIT flabbergasted by how quickly the best laid plans unravel. Thus began the tale of my FE.
My first year room mates and I were ghazal aficionados. Ghazals used to be belted out from my music player all night long. The music would set the tone for the whole flank.Desperate times need desperate measures. To escape certain not so welcome seniors, we got habituated to sleeping at five in the evening and waking up at two at night to do the journals. Of course as part of an all FEs flank in ground G we were better off than many others. But still.
Here I got nicknamed ’Huzoor’. Though only my flank mates who coined the name can fully explain why but I will try to give a hypothesis. My hostel dress was a rather elaborate kurta-payjamas and after twelve at night I used to roam the flank searching for journals to copy and for 'bakar' sessions. Thanks to an intentionally illegible writing and drawing , I used to distribute work to others on behalf of seniors and never really be the one doing it. My royal style I believe in the end got me named ‘Huzoor’. In fact the name later on became so popular many of my batch mates knew me only by my nickname for a very long time.
It was in my first year also that I became part of the Magazine Board. And it’s the Mag Board that makes the whole AIT experience worth the trouble. Strange how it began though! I nearly didn’t make it to the interviews because the news never reached me.Mag Board has moulded me in many ways by giving me wonderful oppurtunities to pursue what I desired.Even as a BE now, when the old have given way to the new, Mag Board still has a special corner in my heart. And this feeling may last forever. I look at ‘eMAGe’ and I know that a whiff of me shall remain in every following issue.
Engineering is not a degree. It’s an experience. The submissions are “mission impossibles”. Engineering at AIT has been fun to put it mildly. Of course maybe I had too much fun, but then again no regrets. Tragically not all papers are one-night stands. Its only in engineering that one recognizes the importance of a 40. As part of a batch which had a history of mass downs I am proud to say I shared all the experiences. EDC ,T.O.C. and M-III for the AIT Comp batch of 08 probably were the biggest obstacles in the completion of engineering. But the clouds did part and most of us cleared those subjects sooner or later.
Four years of lectures seem so insignificant right now. But there are so many memories. Megha smacking her head against the desk with explosive force during a dozing moment. Anurag Chopra trying to divert a question by saying “This is so easy that even Ankush can explain it. Varun Singh coming to lectures after two weeks and having a doubt within ten minutes. Garima whose voice was enigmatically elusive.Praneet getting up in class to be dangerously frank.Santosh Rathore and his improntu khattes. Chits being passed in class. As for myself I can only hope that people remember me.
Nearly four years have passed since I came to AIT. I look back at the Ashraf of that age and I can’t recognize myself in the mirror. I see a stranger. The loss is perhaps of that elusive thing called innocence. And it is true for each and everyone of us. We lie a little too much, are a bit too cruel and cunning at the edges and are just too self-centered for comfort. Like the mighty Beowolf of the legend I believe we have made a pact with the devil. The only question is will the price that we shall pay worth the pact.
Finally as I end my final article for Srijna,I feel an unexpected tug at my heart. It’s a long association coming to an end. Kudos to Comp Dept for being so wonderful to all of us, ciao Mag Board and a round of cheers to all my friends and everyone else whom I have been unable to name for the lack of space.
There are moments and friends I shall always cherish. While there will be friends who shall remain close fighting a duel with time, others shall drift apart. This is fate. But I hope that whenever I shall come across any batch mates, we shall not eye each other as strangers but embrace each other as long lost friends.
Amen.
Syed Ashraf Husain
B.E. Comp
Many people at the end of college state that how much they will miss college, friends and wish that there still was time before they passed out. I would like to state that I am GLAD to pass out. While some regret the passing of an era; I celebrate the dawn of another epoch.
As an FE, SE and most desperately as a TE I wanted to write a memoir in the magazine. However I thought a memoir was too hallowed an act for anyone else than a BE to write. I often wondered how would a 4 year long story sound like? Now that I finally sit down to pen down this memoir, words seem to have deserted me.
AIT in my case is a story that nearly never was. With a rather high AIEEE merit I chose to take admission to NIT Warrangal. But blame fate or the Naxals who ambushed the same district the next day, my decision got vetoed by my parents. So I landed up at the gates of AIT flabbergasted by how quickly the best laid plans unravel. Thus began the tale of my FE.
My first year room mates and I were ghazal aficionados. Ghazals used to be belted out from my music player all night long. The music would set the tone for the whole flank.Desperate times need desperate measures. To escape certain not so welcome seniors, we got habituated to sleeping at five in the evening and waking up at two at night to do the journals. Of course as part of an all FEs flank in ground G we were better off than many others. But still.
Here I got nicknamed ’Huzoor’. Though only my flank mates who coined the name can fully explain why but I will try to give a hypothesis. My hostel dress was a rather elaborate kurta-payjamas and after twelve at night I used to roam the flank searching for journals to copy and for 'bakar' sessions. Thanks to an intentionally illegible writing and drawing , I used to distribute work to others on behalf of seniors and never really be the one doing it. My royal style I believe in the end got me named ‘Huzoor’. In fact the name later on became so popular many of my batch mates knew me only by my nickname for a very long time.
It was in my first year also that I became part of the Magazine Board. And it’s the Mag Board that makes the whole AIT experience worth the trouble. Strange how it began though! I nearly didn’t make it to the interviews because the news never reached me.Mag Board has moulded me in many ways by giving me wonderful oppurtunities to pursue what I desired.Even as a BE now, when the old have given way to the new, Mag Board still has a special corner in my heart. And this feeling may last forever. I look at ‘eMAGe’ and I know that a whiff of me shall remain in every following issue.
Engineering is not a degree. It’s an experience. The submissions are “mission impossibles”. Engineering at AIT has been fun to put it mildly. Of course maybe I had too much fun, but then again no regrets. Tragically not all papers are one-night stands. Its only in engineering that one recognizes the importance of a 40. As part of a batch which had a history of mass downs I am proud to say I shared all the experiences. EDC ,T.O.C. and M-III for the AIT Comp batch of 08 probably were the biggest obstacles in the completion of engineering. But the clouds did part and most of us cleared those subjects sooner or later.
Four years of lectures seem so insignificant right now. But there are so many memories. Megha smacking her head against the desk with explosive force during a dozing moment. Anurag Chopra trying to divert a question by saying “This is so easy that even Ankush can explain it. Varun Singh coming to lectures after two weeks and having a doubt within ten minutes. Garima whose voice was enigmatically elusive.Praneet getting up in class to be dangerously frank.Santosh Rathore and his improntu khattes. Chits being passed in class. As for myself I can only hope that people remember me.
Nearly four years have passed since I came to AIT. I look back at the Ashraf of that age and I can’t recognize myself in the mirror. I see a stranger. The loss is perhaps of that elusive thing called innocence. And it is true for each and everyone of us. We lie a little too much, are a bit too cruel and cunning at the edges and are just too self-centered for comfort. Like the mighty Beowolf of the legend I believe we have made a pact with the devil. The only question is will the price that we shall pay worth the pact.
Finally as I end my final article for Srijna,I feel an unexpected tug at my heart. It’s a long association coming to an end. Kudos to Comp Dept for being so wonderful to all of us, ciao Mag Board and a round of cheers to all my friends and everyone else whom I have been unable to name for the lack of space.
There are moments and friends I shall always cherish. While there will be friends who shall remain close fighting a duel with time, others shall drift apart. This is fate. But I hope that whenever I shall come across any batch mates, we shall not eye each other as strangers but embrace each other as long lost friends.
Amen.
Syed Ashraf Husain
B.E. Comp
Sunday, April 6, 2008
A very moving tale
A very moving and enjoyable forward. I liked it. Hope you all also do the same.
A girl asked a guy if he thought she was pretty.
He said...NO.
She asked him if he would want to be with her forever
...and he said NO.
She then asked him if she were to leave would he cry, and once again he
replied with a NO.
She had heard enough. As she walked away, tears streaming down her face the
boy stopped her and said..
You're not pretty you're beautiful.
I don't want to be with you forever, I NEED to be with you forever.
And I wouldn't cry if you walked away...I'd die...
Saturday, April 5, 2008
A forced hiatus
Well I have not blogged much in March . The reason is that my computer has gone bonkers. Blue Screens of Death seem to be my best friend
For some strange reason my windows installation keeps on crashing. I would format my comp and it would crash again. Infact on one particularly irritating day I installed windows thrice. One could imagine the irritation.
Anyway it turned out my hqard disc has had bad sectors for some time and maybe the hard disc is the problem. But I have a 160 Gb hard disc and its nearly impossible to do a complete format.
I have changed cables and now I am typing with crossed fingers
For nearly 8 days I just did not feel like jostling with the comp again
Lets see if it works
For some strange reason my windows installation keeps on crashing. I would format my comp and it would crash again. Infact on one particularly irritating day I installed windows thrice. One could imagine the irritation.
Anyway it turned out my hqard disc has had bad sectors for some time and maybe the hard disc is the problem. But I have a 160 Gb hard disc and its nearly impossible to do a complete format.
I have changed cables and now I am typing with crossed fingers
For nearly 8 days I just did not feel like jostling with the comp again
Lets see if it works
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
This is the recommended movie of the week.
I had this movie on my system for a long long time but could only watch it yesterday.
My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a wonderful movie not because it entertains us but more so that it explores the subtle realities that surround each and every culture.
The plot synopsis from wikipedia
"
The movie is centered on Toula, a Greek-American woman , who falls in love with a non-Greek American, Ian Miller . The movie also examines the protagonist's relationship with her family, with their cultural heritage and value system, which is sometimes rocky but ends with mutual appreciation.
"
Now my point. The movie is great great entertainment. Typical candy romance. Just multi-flavoured.
One of the most beautiful moments in the movie comes when Toula has some doubts on whether it could work. Because though her family managed to accept the to be groom, still she knew a tradition is
"Listen Tula my village saw many wars. Turkish, German. They all made a mess. But my mother said we are lucky. We are lucky to be alive. And I thought we are not lucky to be alive. We are not lucky when they are telling us where we should live, what we should eat.
Nobody , has that right.
And then I see you.And I see Adena and Nichol(siblings of Toula). We came here for you. So you could live. We gave you a life so you could live it."
Its a very liberating statement and the movie ends on a happy note sometime later.
A lot of fun is poked at the oddities of Greek culture in the movie but its just for fun.
A must watch. Even if one has to rent the DVD.
I had this movie on my system for a long long time but could only watch it yesterday.
My Big Fat Greek Wedding is a wonderful movie not because it entertains us but more so that it explores the subtle realities that surround each and every culture.
The plot synopsis from wikipedia
"
The movie is centered on Toula, a Greek-American woman , who falls in love with a non-Greek American, Ian Miller . The movie also examines the protagonist's relationship with her family, with their cultural heritage and value system, which is sometimes rocky but ends with mutual appreciation.
"
Now my point. The movie is great great entertainment. Typical candy romance. Just multi-flavoured.
One of the most beautiful moments in the movie comes when Toula has some doubts on whether it could work. Because though her family managed to accept the to be groom, still she knew a tradition is
"Listen Tula my village saw many wars. Turkish, German. They all made a mess. But my mother said we are lucky. We are lucky to be alive. And I thought we are not lucky to be alive. We are not lucky when they are telling us where we should live, what we should eat.
Nobody , has that right.
And then I see you.And I see Adena and Nichol(siblings of Toula). We came here for you. So you could live. We gave you a life so you could live it."
Its a very liberating statement and the movie ends on a happy note sometime later.
A lot of fun is poked at the oddities of Greek culture in the movie but its just for fun.
A must watch. Even if one has to rent the DVD.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Terror in my Name?
A terror cell has recently been busted in Bangalore, the Silicon-Valley of India(no, it has nothing to do with certain implants in strategic areas). With the arrest of an MBBS student last month followed by an engineer working for a software firm, it appears now even educated Indian Muslims are in danger of radical indoctrination.
An idiot and a misguided fool makes life difficult for the rest of us. No one can deny that terrorism in the name of Islam is a big problem , not only for the world community, but even more so for Islam itself. But Islam has nothing to do with terrorism. Its the ideologies of terror who derive inspiration from Islam that are creating all the trouble. There is a simple reason why the argument that the Quran or Islam is the cause of terrorism is fallacious. There are a billion plus Muslims in the world. If even ten percent were involved in terrorism , streets would be bathed in blood.
Terrorism like most other things is a political weapon. Other than the Palestine cause there was no other movements which could be labelled terrorists for much of the twentieth century. Then came the Soviets who attacked USSR and suddenly radical Islam seemed to be a new weapon against communism for those in power. So the Mujahideen were funded , trained and armed to take on the Soviet army. The funds did not come from Muslim countries. They came from the west.Paradox aint it. And they did win. The deserts of Afghanistan still contain the bodies of thousands of Soviet soldiers. They died as pawns fighting a war that was just a game between two superpowers. 2000 soldiers are still missing in action nearly 25 years after the war ended.
These mujahideen after the win had nowhere to go . So they migrated to every hotzone possible.
Pakistan used terrorism as a political weapon to spread insurgencies in various parts of India especially Punjab and Kashmir. The 20 year militancy has killed over 20000 people in Kashmir itself.
Many people claim terrorism is in Islam is in the name of Muslims itself. And so moderates must stand up and protest. However much mainstream muslims try to distant themselves from the fringe elements, it is seemingly not enough.
They do not accept the fact that things are being done within the community in many places. Also Islam is not all that homogenous a religion as many would like to beleive it. There are sects and there are ideologies and Islam varies from country to country.
Things could always be better. But the fact remains Islam has no united leadership. In India itself since independence there has been no tall Muslim leader.So whatever changes are being made are being done in rather trying circumstances.
So find the fringe elements and prosecute them as law allows. But don't go overboard and make the average Muslim feel humiliated and threatened. No one wins if the authorities lose the battle of hearts and minds.
The reason is simple . Islam teaches loyalty to both the religion and state. Both of these loyalties go hand in hand. The loyalty to the state is a powerful force. So the police and investigating teams must be sensitive enough not to make innocents question their loyalties. Also a lot of people and organizations are trying to reform Islam, improve the levels of education , encourage dialog etc. Don't suspect these organizations because they work with muslims.
It must be remembered that the terrorist philosophies are just those -philosophies. Indian Islam in particular has a lot of emphasis on tolerance and cohesiveness of humans as a race. It's Sufism.
In the end I say one thing. When a terrorist act occurs, punish the offenders. Know the fact I don't support violence.
Because the terrorist were terrorists.
The violence wasn't in my name. Because I never gave them the power. Ever.
An idiot and a misguided fool makes life difficult for the rest of us. No one can deny that terrorism in the name of Islam is a big problem , not only for the world community, but even more so for Islam itself. But Islam has nothing to do with terrorism. Its the ideologies of terror who derive inspiration from Islam that are creating all the trouble. There is a simple reason why the argument that the Quran or Islam is the cause of terrorism is fallacious. There are a billion plus Muslims in the world. If even ten percent were involved in terrorism , streets would be bathed in blood.
Terrorism like most other things is a political weapon. Other than the Palestine cause there was no other movements which could be labelled terrorists for much of the twentieth century. Then came the Soviets who attacked USSR and suddenly radical Islam seemed to be a new weapon against communism for those in power. So the Mujahideen were funded , trained and armed to take on the Soviet army. The funds did not come from Muslim countries. They came from the west.Paradox aint it. And they did win. The deserts of Afghanistan still contain the bodies of thousands of Soviet soldiers. They died as pawns fighting a war that was just a game between two superpowers. 2000 soldiers are still missing in action nearly 25 years after the war ended.
These mujahideen after the win had nowhere to go . So they migrated to every hotzone possible.
Pakistan used terrorism as a political weapon to spread insurgencies in various parts of India especially Punjab and Kashmir. The 20 year militancy has killed over 20000 people in Kashmir itself.
Many people claim terrorism is in Islam is in the name of Muslims itself. And so moderates must stand up and protest. However much mainstream muslims try to distant themselves from the fringe elements, it is seemingly not enough.
They do not accept the fact that things are being done within the community in many places. Also Islam is not all that homogenous a religion as many would like to beleive it. There are sects and there are ideologies and Islam varies from country to country.
Things could always be better. But the fact remains Islam has no united leadership. In India itself since independence there has been no tall Muslim leader.So whatever changes are being made are being done in rather trying circumstances.
So find the fringe elements and prosecute them as law allows. But don't go overboard and make the average Muslim feel humiliated and threatened. No one wins if the authorities lose the battle of hearts and minds.
The reason is simple . Islam teaches loyalty to both the religion and state. Both of these loyalties go hand in hand. The loyalty to the state is a powerful force. So the police and investigating teams must be sensitive enough not to make innocents question their loyalties. Also a lot of people and organizations are trying to reform Islam, improve the levels of education , encourage dialog etc. Don't suspect these organizations because they work with muslims.
It must be remembered that the terrorist philosophies are just those -philosophies. Indian Islam in particular has a lot of emphasis on tolerance and cohesiveness of humans as a race. It's Sufism.
In the end I say one thing. When a terrorist act occurs, punish the offenders. Know the fact I don't support violence.
Because the terrorist were terrorists.
The violence wasn't in my name. Because I never gave them the power. Ever.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Two great great videos
The best wedding dance EVER. You gotta see this. Lovely idea.
The next has to be the video of the year. Iwatched the whole video and I actually cried. Anyway all the text that follows has been taken from, whoisthemonkey.com . Please read the article because that will help you in understanding it all
Three cheers for Dick Hoyt. May Allah give everyone the courage to be such patient parents.
ENJOY
| WhoIsTheMonkey.com |
The next has to be the video of the year. Iwatched the whole video and I actually cried. Anyway all the text that follows has been taken from, whoisthemonkey.com . Please read the article because that will help you in understanding it all
[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly] I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay For their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.
But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.
Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in Marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a Wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and Pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.
Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back Mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. On a bike. Makes Taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?
And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life. This love story began in Winchester , Mass. , 43 years ago, when Rick Was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him Brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.
"He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;'' Dick says doctors told him And his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. ``Put him in an Institution.''
But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes Followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the Engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was Anything to help the boy communicate. ``No way,'' Dick says he was told. ``There's nothing going on in his brain.''
"Tell him a joke,'' Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a Lot was going on in his brain. Rigged up with a computer that allowed Him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his Head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? ``Go Bruins!'' And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the School organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, ``Dad, I want To do that.''
Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described ``porker'' who never ran More than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he Tried. ``Then it was me who was handicapped,'' Dick says. ``I was sore For two weeks.''
That day changed Rick's life. ``Dad,'' he typed, ``when we were running, It felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!''
And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly Shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.
``No way,'' Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a Single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few Years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then They found a way to get into the race Officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the Qualifying time for Boston the following year.
Then somebody said, ``Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?''
How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since he Was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick Tried.
Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii . It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud Getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you Think?
Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? ``No way,'' he says. Dick does it purely for ``the awesome feeling'' he gets seeing Rick with A cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.
This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best Time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the world Record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to Be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the Time.
``No question about it,'' Rick types. ``My dad is the Father of the Century.''
And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a Mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries Was 95% clogged. ``If you hadn't been in such great shape,'' One doctor told him, ``you probably would've died 15 years ago.'' So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.
Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass. , always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father's Day.
That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.
``The thing I'd most like,'' Rick types, ``is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.''
Three cheers for Dick Hoyt. May Allah give everyone the courage to be such patient parents.
ENJOY
Saturday, February 23, 2008
R.I.P. MBA aspirations 07-08
Khatam hui dastaan-e-mohabbat ,mil gaya dil ko qaraar,
Kal jo padi uspe padi uspe nazar, laut aayi vohi bechaini hai.
Well my M.B.A. aspirations or the attempts at getting to an MBA school have ended for now. That's the bad news.
The good news is now I am going to take up one of the offers I have. Hurray ab to paise kamaaye jaayegein. I have still not decided which company to take but I still have the time.
Anyway my MBA journey began in January last year when I made that MBA decision. So to prepare for the CAT(Common Admission Test) , I took up coaching at IMS institute. I had weekend classes, six hours a week. I am not sure how much I studied but those were the days.
There was a very simple reason why? In my batch out of 30 people nearly 14 were from my college. With a ban on bikes in my college we used to go by buses to the place nearly 14 km away.
On Saturdays we had evening seven to nine batch which used to stretch till nine-thirty. It normally used to take one hour each way of travelling time. On the way back public transport used to become scarce and as a group of three or five we used to have dinner together.
Fun times.
Anyway I think I never really took MBA very seriously and it showed in the results.
The complacency factor set in and when I look back I cant see a lot of hard work being put in the field. Luck is a nice thing but luck is just that-'luck'.
Anyway beyond it in the end I started to doubt if I could make it . And that was the beginning of the end.
In the end my overall CAT percentile was 97.96. Considering nearly 250,000 people appear for the CAT it was not abad score. But not good enough for me. I did though get a 99.91 in english, which is great.
With my CAT score I could get a lot of good colleges but not the creme da creme.
The second test I gave was entrance to F.M.S.
Out of nearly 60,000 people who appear for the test only 60 get the final calls. I guess the luck ran out. Yesterday the results for F.M.S. came and I could feel the end of a year of miserly efforts. But it was still an end.
Anyway I do have a call from I.M.T. Ghaziabad which is at times rated among the top ten colleges of India which I should convert. But I want better so I shall let it go.
Another year , another place, another test. My times shall come.
IIM's main aaa raha hoon.
Kal jo padi uspe padi uspe nazar, laut aayi vohi bechaini hai.
Well my M.B.A. aspirations or the attempts at getting to an MBA school have ended for now. That's the bad news.
The good news is now I am going to take up one of the offers I have. Hurray ab to paise kamaaye jaayegein. I have still not decided which company to take but I still have the time.
Anyway my MBA journey began in January last year when I made that MBA decision. So to prepare for the CAT(Common Admission Test) , I took up coaching at IMS institute. I had weekend classes, six hours a week. I am not sure how much I studied but those were the days.
There was a very simple reason why? In my batch out of 30 people nearly 14 were from my college. With a ban on bikes in my college we used to go by buses to the place nearly 14 km away.
On Saturdays we had evening seven to nine batch which used to stretch till nine-thirty. It normally used to take one hour each way of travelling time. On the way back public transport used to become scarce and as a group of three or five we used to have dinner together.
Fun times.
Anyway I think I never really took MBA very seriously and it showed in the results.
The complacency factor set in and when I look back I cant see a lot of hard work being put in the field. Luck is a nice thing but luck is just that-'luck'.
Anyway beyond it in the end I started to doubt if I could make it . And that was the beginning of the end.
In the end my overall CAT percentile was 97.96. Considering nearly 250,000 people appear for the CAT it was not abad score. But not good enough for me. I did though get a 99.91 in english, which is great.
With my CAT score I could get a lot of good colleges but not the creme da creme.
The second test I gave was entrance to F.M.S.
Out of nearly 60,000 people who appear for the test only 60 get the final calls. I guess the luck ran out. Yesterday the results for F.M.S. came and I could feel the end of a year of miserly efforts. But it was still an end.
Anyway I do have a call from I.M.T. Ghaziabad which is at times rated among the top ten colleges of India which I should convert. But I want better so I shall let it go.
Another year , another place, another test. My times shall come.
IIM's main aaa raha hoon.
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